Mountain Mage
by White-Hymal
Summary: Deaton had called him a Spark. Stiles had never taken it seriously; had never realized the potential that lay hidden with that title, yet he felt useless and wanted nothing more than to help. Feel useful; powerful. One night, he has a conversation with Deaton that gets him curious. Stiles finds out just what a Spark can do. The results shock even Deaton.


Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.

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><p>Mountain Mage<p>

Chapter 1

Scott stood on guard, his fangs bared and his eyes glowing a fiery red. His alpha eyes bore into the hunter in front of him. The man held a gun loaded with wolfsbane to the werewolf's head. Blades and guns alike hung on the man's frame. His goons stood behind him, armed just as heavily he was. Their own weapons were drawn on Scott's pack, who stood behind him. His pack stood strong like the warriors they were forged into; the were's baring their claws; the others armed with weapons.

"I really didn't want it to come to this, Scott." The lead hunter spoke, his voice strong.

"I told you already, a millions times over. We don't know anything." Scott spat at the man.

"That's a lie. You know something." The man bit right back.

"We're as clueless as all of you are. We don't know who or where they are. We've been looking too." Kira spoke up.

"I find it hard to believe a Kitsune. I don't know why I ever thought it would be a good idea to team up with a bunch of beasts. You all lie and turn on others!" The man spat out.

"How many more times do I have to say this, Vince? We don't know!" Scott practically yelled. "So stop attacking my pack and get out of Beacon Hills. What you're looking for obviously isn't here anymore."

"I don't believe that," Vince said. "I know it's still here. I know _he's_ here. You're protecting him, aren't you?"

"No! We don't even know who he is! We don't know anything!" Scott said, angrily, fed up with the man in front of him.

Vince snarled and cocked his gun, causing the pack to tense up. The were's growled low in their throats, the other held up their own weapons, ready to fight. "Now I'll ask you again, " he barked. "who is the Mountain Mage?"

~0~

Four months prior...

"And once again, Scott, I have been proven right." Stiles bit out. "How many times do I have to be right until you guys listen to me?"

"We do listen to you, Stiles, but..."

Stiles cut him off. "Really? Cause if that were the case, then we wouldn't have gone with that ridiculous plan of yours and I wouldn't have a giant gash on the side of my head." Stiles said.

"Enough, Stiles." Deaton said. "You've made your point."

"I doesn't feel like I did." Stiles said.

"Whatever, I'm going home and going to bed. I'm to tired to deal with this right now." Scott said as he walked out of the animal clinic.

Stiles sighed as he watched his best friend leave. He ran his hands over face, wincing when he accidentally rubbed against the newly bandaged gash. He was getting really sick of Scott never fully listening to him.

"Go easy on him, Stiles, he's had a long night." Deaton said.

"And I haven't? We could have avoided getting our asses kicked by a bunch of fairies if he had just listened to me! If the whole pack had just listened to me! I told them! I told them that the fairies had set us up, that they were leading us into a trap and did they listen? No! They treated it like it was a possibility, a very small possibility. I insisted and reminded them over and over again that it was trap and they _still_ walked in there blind and totally unprepared!" Stiles angrily ranted. "Why don't they ever take me seriously? Is it because I'm the human? Is that it? I bet that's it, isn't it?"_  
><em>

Deaton let the teen rant to his heart's content until he finally tired himself out. He stared at the angry boy with unwavering eyes.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Stiles snapped. Deaton still stayed silent, giving no opinion to him. The teen sighed, his anger dissipating in a heartbeat. Now he just looked exhausted. " God, I wish could actually do something! I'm so useless!" Stiles berated himself. "Maybe if I was actually useful, they would take me more seriously."

"You need to stop giving yourself so little credit, Stiles. You're stronger than you think." Deaton said. "You're a Spark, remember?"

Stiles glared at the veterinarian. "A Spark? Hardly. All it did was give me the ability to make a circle out of magic fairy dust. I wouldn't call that being strong, let alone useful.

"Sparks are more powerful than you realize."

"If they're so powerful, then why am I so weak?" Stiles shot back bitterly. "Why am I so useless?"

"Because you don't give yourself the credit you deserve. You don't see how strong you are. As long as you insist that you're weak and useless, that's all you'll be. Don't you remember what I told you, Stiles?" Deaton said. The man turned around and grabbed a small glass bottle filled with black powder. He turned back and tossed it at the teen, who barely caught it. The man pointed at the bottle and stared dead into Stiles's eyes. "The only reason you were able to make that circle is because you imagined that there was enough ash. It is because you believed it that it happened, Stiles. What you can with Mountain Ash is only limited by your imagination. As long as you believe that you can't do anything then the Mountain Ash will do nothing for you. Do you see what I'm getting at Stiles? You're a spark, a strong one even. You want to be useful? You want to be taken seriously? Then take that Spark and light it! Turn it into a flame." Deaton said.

Stiles stared wide-eyed at the vet. His eyes trailed down at the small bottle. Could he really do so much with such a simple, little object? With a bunch of dust? He couldn't see it. He hardly believed he was a Spark. It made a circle, cool. He had to break it anyway. He was just the human, what could he possibly do with a bunch of dust?

Deaton seemed to sense that Stiles was still unconvinced. "Stiles," Deaton said, catching the attention of the teen. "You need to stop doubting yourself. Take the mountain ash. You might find that will come in handy." Deaton said.

"But I can't.." Stiles was cut off.

"Take it and go home. It's late and you're injured. Get some sleep. We'll talk about this some other time."

Stiles stared at the vet for a moment. His eyes flashed to the bottle. He sighed and shoved the bottle in his pocket. He mumbled a "goodbye" and left the clinic. He didn't really see what he could do with a little bottle of Mountain Ash, but he would humor the vet for now. Stiles jumped in his jeep and started the engine. He sighed again, feeling the events of the day finally hit him. When was the last time he had his Adderall?

He could feel the bottle pressing against his leg as he drove. His mind dwelled on what Deaton said. Could he really become stronger? He had a hard time believing it. Not after all the grief he caused; not after so many people were lost at his hand. Stiles shook the thought away.

Stiles came home to a dark house and a cruiser missing from the driveway. That's right, his dad had the night shift. He killed the engine and climbed out of his jeep. He felt the weight of the bottle as he went inside and climbed up the stairs.

He didn't want to think about it anymore. Stiles pulled out the bottle and set it on his desk. He turned away from it, finding it almost unbearable to look at the bottle for some reason. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed. It took him an eternity to fall asleep. He was still fighting insomnia since the Nogitsune incident. That and it felt like the bottle was boring a heat ray into his back. He could sense where it was on the desk. It was like he was hyper-aware of the damn thing's existence.

Stiles buried himself under the covers and dug his head into his pillow, trying desperately hide himself away from the bottle. Dammit, why did Deaton give him that stupid thing?


End file.
